


All Mod Cons

by ML Mead (moonlightmead)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:31:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightmead/pseuds/ML%20Mead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men in a bath just don't fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Mod Cons

"Bodie!" Water spun off Doyle as he twisted round in the cramped bathtub. Bodie retreated before Doyle could think to redirect the flow of water from the showerhead. "Bodie, wait your turn!"

"I'm all wet now." 

Doyle was not fooled by the plaintive tone. Half-emerging from his shower, he brandished a soapy flannel and aimed for Bodie's shoulder. "Shouldn't be in my bloody bathroom. Get out of here, you." 

Automatically, Bodie caught Doyle's forearm. He held him immobile for a second, then yanked Doyle forward. Doyle lurched involuntarily, and promptly banged his leg on the edge of the bath and swore. Bodie grinned evilly, and pulled again. Doyle came tumbling halfway into his arms, the shower curtain caught around him. 

"Bodie!" Real irritation now.

Bodie ignored the tone of voice - might as well go for it now, it wasn't often he caught Doyle unaware - and continued to pull. As he took Doyle's full weight, the strain was too much for the shower rail, which came down, along with the shower curtain. The drum of the water was suddenly very loud.

"Jesus, Bodie."

Bodie stared uncertainly down at a surprisingly unfazed Doyle, realising he was taking the entire weight of his partner - his naked partner – entangled in the curtain. Now what? The moment stretched. 

Doyle started to struggle free. When they came, his words were practical. "Oi. You'll be fixing that rail. That's my deposit you're losing me."

Bodie came to himself. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

o o o 

Bodie fixed the rail. Doyle kept his deposit.

o o o 

"Jesus Christ, Doyle!" The outrage carried through the shut and bolted bathroom door.

"What?" 

"The water's just gone boiling! What. Did. You. Do?"

"Ah, bugger. Sorry."

A muffled curse. The sound of the shower abruptly cut off. Bodie emerged, towel about his waist.

"What was that?"

"Sorry, mate. Washing machine. You said I could use it. And I couldn't take this lot to the laundrette. Not after today. Bad enough before the bloody canal. Alison's convinced I sleep on a bench in Leicester Square as it is. "

"That's as maybe, but not when I'm in the shower! Pulled all the cold water away, that did. I look like a half-done lobster." He stopped, abruptly. Doyle was wearing barely more than him, and, the cheeky sod, surely that was some of Bodie's own underwear protecting Doyle's modesty? If he ever had any. "You put ... everything... in?" 

Doyle nodded. "It was pretty skanky. Sorry. Should be dry by morning." He sauntered towards Bodie and paused just out of his reach. He took in Bodie from head to toe. Appraisingly. "In the meantime... think I might have to stay over. Reckon you've got room for me somewhere?" 

Bodie knew that the flush on his skin was no longer all from the shower. 

o o o 

The meeting of the Estates and Accommodation Committee was well in session. 

"Item seven. Agents' accommodation." Betty ticked off item six and waited to hear the latest calamity to befall the removal crew. The custom of agents leaving joke articles behind in the flats for the removal crew to find was rapidly losing its entertainment value. 

"Agent 3.7 has put in a complaint about his shower."

Betty pursed her lips. "He's got a cheek. Isn't he in the Manor Park flat? Electric shower, washing machine, what more does he want?"

"Apparently it's the combination of the two. When the washing machine draws water, the shower runs too hot."

Betty sighed. "One of the three flats with its own washing machine, and he complains. Fine. Put him in the Ealing flat next."

"Um... which one's that?" The newest arrival to the department could see the others were amused. 

Betty smiled at her – Laura, wasn't it? -- and imparted CI5 wisdom. "It's the one with the wiring problems. We've been over it time and again, and it's just one of those things. If 3.7 doesn't like the facilities in the Manor Park building, he can have that one. Now then. Did I see a packet of Rich Tea biscuits on the tray?"

o o o 

"Bloody Ealing. Bloody bodged wiring. I tell you, Rackman was a better landlord than CI5. Even that squat had better electricity!" 

Doyle grinned to himself as Bodie carted a sports bag in with him, grumbling. Bodie could make excuses all he wanted. There was more than one reason he was bringing a change of clothes over to Doyle's, and his inability to shower for more than two minutes without the thermostat cutting out was not the main one.

And Doyle was sure that two could shower as cheap as one.

o o o 

Estates and Accommodation, some months later:

"We've had another complaint about one of the secure flats. Manham Road, this time." Laura gazed down at the form. "Apparently the bath is broken."

Betty made a note on her copy of the agenda. "That's one of the A Squad flats. Doyle, yes?"

"No, Turner. Doyle moved last week. There's some kind of hole in the bath. Turner's complaining that Doyle must have done it."

Betty paused. "It's taken Turner a week to notice the bath is broken?"

Laura wrinkled her nose. "Yeah. Doesn't bear thinking about, does it? Let's just hope he was staying with his latest girlfriend?"

"What's the point in giving the A Squad secure accommodation if they never spend any time in it? All right, I'll pass it on to maintenance."

Laura adopted her best poker-playing face and gave thanks that the office grapevine had not yet uncovered Murphy's late-night visits and early morning departures from her flat.

o o o

Doyle heard the sound of the bathroom door over the sound of the shower and sighed ruefully. It had taken him months to get Bodie to lose certain inhibitions, and now it seemed like others were going whether Doyle had tried to remove them or not.

"Oh, not the loo again. I'm in the shower. Can't you wait? Or drink less or something?"

"Not here for that." Bodie leaned carefully against the sink, arms folded. "Just came to admire the view." 

Doyle regarded him warily. "Oh no. You don't get me that easily. No scrapping in the bathroom. You know what happened last time."

Bodie grinned. "That was your fault." 

"Yeah? Which time? The shower rail? Or the pair of us in the same shower? Or.."

"I'd forgotten the shower rail," admitted Bodie happily. "Alright, that one was my fault."

Doyle gave up on his ablutions to gaze at Bodie. "What are you up to, Bodie?" Bodie, unabashed, held his gaze. 

"You've got soap on your ear." 

He reached forward to take Doyle's wrist and direct the flannel to the offending ear. Doyle resisted. Instead of letting go, Bodie changed direction and brought the flannel towards him. He made as if to rub both flannel and hand on his own cheek.

"Bodie, you don't even know where that flannel's been."

"Mmm. Exactly where I wanna go, I should think."

Doyle looked faintly awed. "Limits aren't something you do, are they?"

"Not with you, sunshine. No."

Doyle considered that for a while, standing still under the descending water. "Come here."

"In there? In my jeans?" Bodie affected outrage.

Doyle grinned. "Worried they might shrink to fit? Wouldn't object to that."

"Worried they might shrink and not fit," Bodie objected. "Too tight already." He lifted his eyebrows significantly and nodded down. 

"So I see." Doyle's voice was admiring. "Get 'em off, then."

"You sweet talker."

Doyle made a grab for Bodie, and slipped. Trying to catch himself and stay upright, his hand grabbed the shower curtain, with predictable results. The rail jerked out of place at one end, and the clack of cleats sliding jerkily down the rail heralded the descent of the curtain, dragged down by Doyle's weight.

Bodie, his flies undone and about to push his jeans down past his hips, shot his hands forward to break Doyle's fall. All became confusion as they scrabbled for balance, Doyle swearing in frustration and Bodie starting to laugh. Seizing his opportunity, he swept the curtain over Doyle and manoeuvred him upright, staggering slightly. 

"Come on, then. Let's find a softer landing."

They stumbled happily together out of the bathroom. 

Behind them, the shower thundered on, the head now spraying the walls, and the water trickling down behind the tile grouting.

The estates and accommodation committee would not be pleased.


End file.
